Piece of Gotham
by Codekitsune
Summary: In Gotham gangsters threaten to take power, An order of Assassins is needed to keep the balance. In this world a young Bruce Wayne's life is ripped open. Will he join the order and get revenge or will he hide in the dark? Batman / Assassin's Creed AU fic.
1. Prologue

Piece Of Gotham

Prologue

'Hello darkness, my old friend, I've come to talk with you again,

Because a vision softly creeping, Left its seeds while I was sleeping,

And the vision that was planted in my brain Still remains

Within the sound of silence. I

n restless dreams I walked alone Narrow streets of cobblestone,

'Neath the halo of a street lamp, I turned my collar to the cold and damp.'

The Sound of Silence –Simon and Garfunkel

"Are you kidding Dad we have to go! I was so excited about seeing Cassandra in this play. She's gonna be amazing! Plus, Mom knows Cassandra wants to see her there and you! It's not the same without you." Bruce's eyes were huge looking at his dad, Thomas Wayne. His lip stuck out slightly his hair messy from his afternoon nap. His eyes shone with admiration for the man in front of him. Thomas returned it with a look of love. However, there was a hesitation in his father's eyes that Bruce didn't quite see. It was a pained hesitation, he was going to have to sacrifice something in this decision, something rather large.

"Alright son, you're right. We've had this planned for a few months and Anna will be very disappointed if we don't show. I'll make some calls. I'm sure someone will replace me." Thomas forced a smile as he looked at Bruce, there was a pained note in his voice. It was obvious something was wrong. Bruce however didn't register that fact. He was simply overjoyed to find out that his family actually was going to go out.

Thomas adjusted the long sleeves of his white button up shirt pulling them up over his elbows before grabbing Bruce under the arms and lifting him off his lap. He stood up setting him down he took a deep breath and Bruce looked up at him. His father looked at him for a long moment, Bruce noticed that there was something odd there, like his Dad's eyes were way too tired. Then Thomas ruffled Bruce's already messy hair and walked out of Bruce's room to the study.

Bruce stood behind for a moment watching the retreating vision of his father's back. He was standing smiling but the look on his dad's face gave him a weird feeling, curiosity. He snuck around the corner following his Dad going across the hall to another room and peeking out. His Dad was rubbing the bridge of his nose between two calloused fingers. He went into his study and picked up the phone on the table while Bruce peeked around the corner. His Dad's expression had grown more serious. His hands moving nervously. His index fingers tapped on the table while he held the phone against his ear with his shoulder. His eyes were closed for a moment as he took deep purposeful breaths. This was an important phone call, that much was obvious.

"There's something I need to talk to him about. I can't..." his voice dropped a second, "...take care of the job tonight. There's a family obligation in the way, it will be too suspicious if I....Yes, I'm aware of that," A long pause follows while Thomas taps his fingers a little bit faster. "Well, he's been wanting to prove himself anyway. It will be good for him. A little bit of action for Jr. Tell him I appreciate it." He set the phone down on the receiver and took a slow breath. He ran his hand through his hair and put his head on the desk for a minute. When his head rose back up he had a small smile on his face. Bruce tilted his head his eyebrows coming together in confusion. He ran down the hallway and went to tell his Mom they were going to the play still. He was so glad Dad had changed his mind.

Bruce was wearing pajamas and a black pair of socks on his feet and as he ran around the hallways he would stop and slide as he turned making his way to his Mother, Martha's room. As he slid around a corner to the hallway his Mom's room was in he ran straight into Alfred's legs who caught him by the arms carefully, but firmly.

"Slow down there Master Bruce, don't want you to sprain anything." His voice was thick with an English accent, normally Bruce would try and mimic it to make Alfred grumpy but he was too excited. Bruce chuckled and snuck around his legs running to Martha's room.

"Mom! Mom! Dad said he's going to take us to the play..." It was obvious his mother had been crying she looked up and a sigh of relief came from her lips. "What's wrong?"

"Really? That's a relief for Cassandra and I." She answered carefully dodging her son's question like only a mother could. She took a deep breath and stood up walking around to Bruce. "You talked him for me didn't you love?" Bruce nodded and smiled.

"Of course I did! I saw how sad you were and I knew I had to talk to him." His mother slid her arms around him.

"You're a sweetheart. Go get ready darlin'." Bruce hopped out of the room as Alfred walked into the room behind him.

"Madam, I believe that your evening has been saved..." Bruce was running down the hall his sock covered feet and he slid into his room.

______

"Are you ready Bruce?" Martha was at the door to the garage as he came down the stairs. He was in a little suit that basically matched his Father's. His hair was combed back with some grease. Martha smiled at the site of him in a suit, she knew by the end of the night that suit would most likely be destroyed. Bruce stopped looking at his Mother. She had a long black dress on with a fur coat over top and pearls around her neck. He smiled up at her. "Alfred and your father are waiting out in the car already." Bruce hopped down the rest of the stairs and ran passed her into the garage as she shut the door behind them.

"One day you're gonna end up in the circus as an acrobat with those skills." She paused for a moment as Bruce got into the car next to Thomas. "He must get it from his father."

The play was a Dracula themed play with bats flying everywhere. The girl Cassandra was playing the part of Mina. Martha guessed that the play might end up being a little too much for the younger Wayne. The thing that scared him the most were the bats. He just felt a fear towards them, a sort of phobia. He peeked out behind his father's arm for most of those scenes. He made it through the whole play to his credit though. When the play was over they went backstage to talk to Cassandra who kept giving Thomas odd looks over Bruce's head.

"Cassandra the play was scary but awesome!" Bruce was using his suit coat with his arms tied around his neck to act as a cape as he swooped around her. The women giggled and Thomas shook his head.

"That boy is just dying to fly isn't he?" Martha leaned against Thomas smiling up at him.

"Sounds like someone I know." Kissing his cheek, he grinned back at her wrapping an arm around her. Cassandra and his parents whispered while Bruce walked around the stage meeting the other actors in the play. After awhile of visiting they left planning to meet for dinner after the show.

They left out the back of the building to avoid the crowd of paparazzi and cameras. The alley was dark and quiet, the paper scuttling across the ground was constant as the dirty wind cut across the alley. Bruce gripped onto his Mother's hand and arm because he was still paranoid from the play. His father was walking a small distance in front of them his warm breath fogging the night. He had a gracefulness about him that the suit couldn't hide, an awareness.

There was a slice of sound and a man dropped in a flutter of fabric. He hit the ground in a crouch and his head was hooded and it extended down to a cape that covered down the man's back. The cape was black and everything was covered except his face. He looked up slowly at the family with determination in his eyes. Thomas jumped in front of the rest of them as his mother gasped. Her white gloved hands grabbed Bruce hard moving him behind her as her eyes narrowed. Thomas was still, silent.

"Baby, get behind me." His mother grabbed harder onto his arms. Bruce's eyes were huge as he looked at the man in front of him. His outfit looked like it was from another time. It was intricate fabric crossing over different places. In the night it was hard to see anything but the black cloak. A gun hung from his belt and he had a tattoo underneath his eye. From this distance Bruce couldn't tell what it was.

"Assassin, you believe you can call off for the night and not be found?" The man's voice was teasing but cold and determined. Bruce's father's hand rolled into fists and his legs bent, in a ready stance. The ease with which he fell into it made it appear like it was as natural as walking.

"How did you find me?" Bruce was amazed by the dark sound of his father's voice. He had gotten his Dad mad plenty of times. He had never sounded like that. He pulled on his mom's arm she pushed back at him.

"Stay quiet Bruce." He grabbed harder onto her arm peeking around it.

"You can't trust everyone you meet Wayne. That's dangerous business. A society of people who change the world through murder? Yet claim a higher consciousness? It's bullshit Wayne and the man I work for is going to change all that." The man moved faster than Bruce could follow him with his eyes, the gun was in his hand and Bruce didn't even see him reach for it. His Dad pulled away as soon as the barrel touched his forehead and dropped down sliding his leg across the other mans. The hooded figure dropped and rolled holding tight onto his gun and turning it towards Thomas who ran forward to throw a kick into the man while reaching for a knife in his pocket. The man lifted a leg and pushed his father back with a timed kick. He skidded across the alley on his feet and then rushed forward again. The man pulled a knife from his pocket tossing it and it sliced through the air sliding through Thomas' hand, who screamed and his knife dropped from his hand. He gripped his hand as the man walked forward and put the gun to his head.

"On your knees Assassin. Tell me where the piece of Eden is Wayne, or die." The man was breathing heavy as he cocked the gun. Bruce was grabbing his Mom's hand trying to run around him but his Mother grabbed him hard, her hands wrapping around his tiny arms. He had never felt her hold him so hard.

"No Bruce." her voice was stern But she was shaking. However there was no sound of surprise in her voice and a sort of acceptance, like she had been prepared for this moment. Bruce looked up at her.

"But Mom..."

"I'll never tell you. You can kill me if you want." The man's upper lip turned into a sneer. He took the gun and whipped it across Wayne's face hard and quick. His head snapped to the side and Thomas hissed at the pain as red spread across his cheek.

"Oh, I can promise either way I'll kill you. Your family is the one who you'll save." Bruce's mother jumped forward shoving Bruce back who landed on the floor of the alley. He caught himself as he landed in a puddle the cold water soaking through the suit as some of it ripped. His breath was hot and heavy in the night.

"Don't tell him honey. Our lives aren't worth the loss." A bullet shot across the alley through her forehead in a tiny circle. The bullet cut across the alley slamming into the brick of the wall, dust and snow fell from the wall as the sound echoed. Bruce's eyes went wide, disbelieving not really sure what was happening. His voice cut in a scream across the alley, his legs frozen as he watched her legs wobble then her body fall to the ground. Bruce couldn't move as his eyes watched her face, cold. She wasn't in that empty face anymore.

"Noo!" Thomas cried out his voice catching in the dark. His hand reached out and the blood coming out of it was covering his hand.

"Bruce run! Don't look back!"

"Dad I won't leave you!" His voice was shaking, he couldn't move but he wasn't going to leave his Dad here, with the man.

"That's a good kid you got there Wayne. I hope you make the right decision so he'll live. Maybe he can learn some tricks still. Make your decision or the boy dies." Another gun had been pulled out of his cloak and was facing towards Bruce while the other stayed on Wayne's head. The gun pointing at Bruce has smoke trailing up from it into the sky. The sound of him cocking the gun again was loud in the alley. Bruce pushed himself up slightly, finally able to move. He was freezing, shaking tears running down his face. Wayne's eyes searched for his son in the dark. A horrible fear in his eyes. The same look he had earlier that day where a sacrifice had to be made, and either way it was going to end badly. He was biting his lip hard and sweat was obvious across his forehead as he shook from pain. The man slapped him across the other cheek with the gun.

"Time is running out Assassin." The man grabbed Wayne by his collar pulling him up again the gun pointed at his forehead again, the cold metal right against his forehead, blood smeared on his head from his where the gun had struck him. His eyes were panicked as he thought. Then his head dropped and he spoke.

"Don't hurt him. I'll tell you where it is." His voice was defeated and he whispered to the man who leaned him down and slid a long sword from behind him after holstering the one pointed at Bruce and slid it hard into Thomas' chest, who cried out for Bruce as his hand reached then dropped to the dirt alley floor. The man rose up holstering his other gun and wiping the blade on Thomas' pants. He sheathed it on his back and knelt down again. He ran his hands over Thomas' eyes closing them as he whispered. Bruce lay in the puddle, seeing the cold look of his parent's faces. They were gone...

Bruce watched as silent, shocked tears ran down his face. The man jumped grabbing onto a window in the alley and scaling the wall quickly and soon in a flutter of fabric he was out of sight. Bruce sat for about five minutes by himself, staring at the bodies of his parents. He knew they were gone. He knew enough about death that it meant forever. He started to cry louder and he wrapped his arms around himself as he shook faster and harder his breath escaping in hisses.

The splash of footsteps was heard running, fast and hard. Bruce looked up his whole body shaking eyes filled with fear until he saw the face of the Butler. His only family left now. He stood slowly not quite able to rise by himself. Alfred froze as he caught sight of the bloody scene. He ran over to Bruce and helped him the rest of the way up pulling him into his arms.

"Bruce, what happened?" Alfred's voice was shaking, angry, hurt and sad, but again not surprised.

"Some man dropped out of the sky. He had a hood, I just...they're just gone." The police sirens started to rise up out of the leftover quiet of the night as Alfred slid his arms underneath Bruce and lifted him up. A car pulled into the alley sirens turning off but the lights still dancing down the alley as a policeman ran down to them. They lit Alfred's cold face as he looked to the man walking up.

"Is that the Waynes?" It was a policeman named Gordon. It was obvious Gordon knew Alfred. The Butler looked up from the shaking boy in his arms.

"Gordan, it is." Alfred looked back to see where the other policemen were. "They finally caught up with him." Gordon's reaction was palpable, shock was on his face. He ran a hand through dark hair and shook his head as his hand dropped to his neck.

"We'll do what we can Alfred."

"I know it's in good hands Gordon. I'll drive him to the station, so he can give a statement." the policeman nodded and moved passed them as rain started to hit the ground and their faces and shoulders.

"We need to get our business done and get the bodies out before the rain washes away our evidence." Gordon hollered and waved the policeman by him and they ran in taking pictures the flash of photography lighting up the gory scene in the alley.

Alfred carried Bruce back to the car, the young boy looking up to see the red and blue lights cutting across the Butler's sad face. Trails followed raindrops and tears down his face. Bruce felt his mind giving way as the world started to smear together. Everything started to move in slow motion, the lights going slowly, Alfred walking impossibly slow. He sword he could hear bat wings before he fell into unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 1

Piece of Gotham

Chapter 1

_Just because I'm losing  
Doesn't mean I'm lost  
Doesn't mean I'll stop  
Doesn't mean I will cross_

_Just because I'm hurting  
Doesn't mean I'm hurt  
Doesn't mean I didn't get what I deserve  
No better and no worse_

_I just got lost  
Every river that I've tried to cross  
And every door I ever tried was locked  
And I'm just waiting till the shine wears off.._

Coldplay: Lost!

"If you actually learn to climb I'll teach you to fight." Alfred's voice echoed strongly in the caves underneath the Wayne mansion. Sweat was pouring down Bruce's face. He was up the wall about a third of the way. His harness was laying down next to Alfred on the ground.

"Don't you think that the more important part is the fighting?" Bruce's voice was colored with disappointment as he spoke. He looked down at Alfred and wiped his brow.

"Should you really waste your breath on complaining Master Bruce. It seems to me you're having a bit of difficulty. "Bruce sighed openly and gave a sort of growl in Alfred's direction as he stood back up. He had finally advanced passed the harness, though he wasn't positive it was such a good thing now that he was halfway up a cliff face. He thought of it as progress but instead it was more like he earned the priviledge to risk his life. Alfred looked pretty pleased from the bottom.

Bruce looked up the cliff face and took a deep breath as he jumped catching onto one of the stopping spots up the wall. His hands were sore and calloused. Alfred decided he needed to learn to do it without gloves first.

Bruce was pretty sure that all of this was for the times Alfred had to clean up after him or take care of him. Bruce looked back down and felt slight vertigo then turned and looked back up at the cliff face. That didn't feel very good either. He reached up his hands grabbing around rocks and then pulling himself up, the muscles in his arm tight.

__

"What did that guy mean Assassin Alfred?" Bruce had asked a few years after his parents died when he had gotten to the point that he was alright to talk about it. He had since learned what the word meant and the memories had come flashing back and laying doubt in his mind of what he had always been told happened.

"Master Bruce, I doubt the man called your father an assassin it's just a child's memory." Bruce had scowled in return and shook his head.

"I'm fifteen years old now, I can handle the truth." Alfred sighed in response and turned away from Bruce.

"I have to follow your father's wishes Bruce. He didn't want it this way."

"He didn't want to be dead either." Bruce stormed away from the table slamming his silverware down and then pulling the door closed behind him. Alfred put his head in his hands as the sound echoed in the huge hallway.

The mansion never seemed right anymore to him. It always felt too empty too quiet and way to dark. The mansion never used to feel this huge, it normally felt small when he was cleaning, now it felt endless. The echoes hurt when he walked across the stone floors. It just felt wrong.

"Now Bruce, this was your father's." Alfred lays a hand on a large old rusty wooden and iron chest. His face has a dark tone to his eyes. He doesn't even look up at Bruce as he looks at it. There's a dirty feeling of memory in the room, like it's something you could breathe in. It tasted sort of like dust to him. Though he may have been imagining it. He breathed heavy in expectation, he had been waiting for the truth for years now and finally he was going to see the truth. Years of being unsure, years of rumors and finally it was going to become real.

"What is it?" His voice was quiet with anticipation the calm before the storm. Alfred glanced up from the chest and let out a slow breath. He was trying to figure out whether this was the best possibility whether Thomas would have actually wanted Bruce to know the truth about his history, about his family. Bruce had seen the face before, his father had that look the night he died. He almost wanted to ignore his curiosity but he couldn't bare to loose this piece of him.

"Are you positive Bruce?" The young Bruce bit his lip looking up at the butler, his family, his only family. He had this opportunity to turn back, even though he felt the confusion the pull to back away he knew he could only choose to know.

"Absolutely. I can't do it any other way." His voice was stern, ready and certain. He already sounded older than he was. Alfred nodded and pulled his key ring from his pocket. An ancient looking sort of key gold and rusty like the chest on the table. He leaned forward turning the key in the lock it creaked open the metal rubbing together in the lock. Bruce's breath caught in his throat as the chest opened.

Bruce leaned forward to find two leather arm bands laying on top of folded white cloak. Bruce's hands reached out slowly a slight shake to them. The colors of leather and metal were folded all over each other. His hands reached out to touch the white fabric. It wasn't soft, but a rough feeling. It felt odd beneath his fingers. He was overwhelmed by something but he couldn't define what.

"What is this?" Bruce pulled out one of the armbands and Alfred grabbed it from him quickly.

"Sorry, you are too young for some pieces of your history. I apologize for that." Alfred put the leather armbands down on the table his fingers lingering on the leather.

"Your father belonged to an order of assassins." Alfred paused looking at Bruce who just looked back at him dumbfounded. "I'll continue while your mind catches up," He slid the robes out of the chest slowly carefully and laid them out on the table. "This was the uniform, well persay." Alfred's hands moved across the fabric then back to his sides. He was familiar with this, very familiar. "The outfits vary for different people; mine was a little more traditional." Bruce stared at the robes for a long time trying to imagine his father in them. Then he looked up his mind finally catching up to where Alfred had stopped talking.

"You...? There's no way! This is a great joke but really the guy in the alley was just insane right and you've been having me wait this whole time for a bad joke." Alfred's eyebrows drew together in disappointment.

"Master Bruce my opinion is that you weren't ready for this. Your father believed it would be different. Who do you want to prove right?" Alfred's voice was hard but imploring. He wanted Bruce to believe him, to have this secret that was hanging over his head disappear for good.

"But you two...you'd never hurt anyone..." Bruce spoke slowly carefully, a little nervous around the butler now.

"Sometimes the world can only be changed through force Bruce." His tone showed that of a man experienced, a man who had felt that need several times, a man who knew what he was talking about. "Near the end...your father had begun to change his mind though. He wanted to live out his life with his family. Though it was a bit too late for that."

Bruce's hands curved into the fabric holding it tight around his hands. He wanted to know what his father had known. What had been so important that family could be sacrificed? That even at the end his mother would choose death? He tightened his fists harder.

"I want to do this Alfred." The butler's eyes widened in surprise though he knew they shouldn't have. Bruce wasn't the young boy he had essentially raised before. He was darker, wise beyond his years. So many lessons were in his mind, so many dark twists.

"I can't teach you..." Alfred's voice was soft as he spoke and the disappointment in Bruce's eyes caught him off guard. "...Everything, but I can start you out. This isn't easy boy, trust me on that. Now, let me tell you what this all means."

--------

Bruce pulled himself further up the cliff face almost to the top now. His shirt was soaked through with sweat. He missed the uncomfortable harness, the safety of it. Though really now that he was all the way up here the climb seemed like second nature to him. It felt right, though difficult. He could see the top in sight within a few stretches of his arms. He would get there soon, very soon.

------

"He wanted to protect Gotham." Alfed was in the middle of one of their story nights. Bruce was sitting in the passengers seat buckled in and staring out the windows as Alfred drove through some of the nastier places in Gotham. He had never been allowed here before, had never been here when his parents were alive. Now he understood why. People all over the streets, ripped clothes.

"She needs saving." Alfred glanced over for a moment an odd look in his eyes. This was a familiar feeling.

"Your father believed that whole heartedly, he wanted a different world for you. So did your mother. He was in a long line though. He came into possession of...something important." His voice trailed off, it was one of those times he was reconsidering telling Bruce all these stories. Bruce bit his lip nervously.

"What was it?"

"We can get to that later." He turned down another street heading back to the mansion. To tell Bruce the whole truth would be to shatter things he had barely even learned yet. There would be a time for that. The boy's mind was already gripped with cynicism. " This item was how he began the businesses, how his family began their businesses. How he earned the money he used to try and help Gotham." Alfred's voice was sort of whimsical, filled with an admiration. It made Bruce give a small smile despite himself. His father had been a hero. He made the hard decisions in his life to help more than himself and his family. Though Bruce thought that sacrificing family was a rough decision and ended up being a bad one and sort of wished his Dad had just been a normal guy, he also knew that his Dad wouldn't have been the same amazing man he had been when he was alive.

"So what does it mean for me then?" Bruce asked, his eyes were shining ready, awake expectant. He wanted to know where to go from here, what he was supposed to do with his life.

"You are supposed to continue your father's businesses. Keep Wayne Enterprises out of the red and keep doing his work." Alfred looked away from Bruce as he sighed openly. He knew what Bruce wanted. To be the hero his dad had been. Alfred couldn't promise that future to anyone but this job was hereditary, it often got passed down generation to generation in times of need. This was a time of need.

"However when you aren't fulfilling that role, your father did leave me instructions that if you wanted to join the ranks that I must start to instruct you." He watched Bruce's eyes go wide with a sort of remorse in his. He knew what the end for most Assassins was. He had quit when he got too old. He had been lucky, very lucky and there had been many an assassin to take his place.

"Really?!" The excitement in his voice spread to the movement of his body his legs jumping and his hands felt sweaty from excitement. He couldn't believe that he could learn the secret life that his father had been hiding from him, he assumed that his mother had known. She had called out like she had every idea what was going on the night they died. He could remember how stready her hands felt on his arms. How tight she had gripped him hoping she wouldn't have to let go. Then when she had she fell forever. Bruce swallowed deeply and returned his thoughts back the issues at hand. His history that a moment before he had no idea existed. "But Alfred you're...old, how are you going to teach me how to..."

"Old my boy has nothing to do with it." Alfred jumped up on the table sliding the leather bracer onto his arm and bending over extending the blade out with a flick of his wrist in Bruce's direction. Bruce's voice caught in his throat as he watched. Alfred straightened himself out and patted down his coat as if he had suddenly been covered in dust. He breathed slowly.

"Well maybe it has something to do with getting old. I can teach you some of the tricks I know. The basics without doing them myself. You'll have to do them on your own. I drive a hard boot camp Master Wayne."

"It can't be that bad right Alfred really now."

------

Sweat stuck Bruce's shirt to his back, he could feel the drops snaking down his back leaving trails that felt freezing when a cold wind would cut through the cave from above. He could always remember thinking that maybe it would have been easier, now this illusion was long gone. He felt like he had learned a lot discipline and all that. However he didn't feel any closer to his father. He didn't understand what was going on any better than he did the day after he lost his life to the darkness.

The hardest thing about all of this was keeping up with the double life Alfred insisted he lead. All these parties and women everywhere that always made him pretend that he was happy, that he was well adjusted after his parents death. He wasn't. All he could think about was finding out the truth. It still eluded him. Alfred made him work for the knowledge about the assassins. Sometimes, most of the time, it was really irritating.

He pulled himself up the last little bit fighting the fatigue. Without the harness the climb was harder. His muscles were tense and fought against the climb. Aching, pleading not to be forced the rest of the way. Bruce growled as he pushed them. They would have to deal with it. They'd have to learn to push and learn to drive. They were going to have to become something more than muscle, more like machine than man.

He wanted everything to change and he looked at the sweat and pain as the helping hand. His parents death was the catalyst the rest was up to him. The rest was what would fill his life. He didn't know what the end result would be but living in the present was the only way he could even live. And a couple cliff faces weren't going to get in his way.

Without really realizing it he had gotten inches from the top. He pushed himself up the rest of the way. His rough red beaten hands pushed against the flat top of the cliff. He layed down on the ground the cold of the stone chilling his body as he laid on his back. He stared up at the black of the roof of the cave that seemed to extend into forever. He thought that was much like his life, it was filled with darkness but it also had this opportunity to it, this potential. This mystery.

At this point in his life it still felt romantic.

A flash of light up his direction made him squint and throw his arms up over his eyes.

"Master Bruce are you going to spend all night becoming familiar with the bats or are you going to climb back down?" Bruce growled in response.

"I think I'll become nocturnal Alfred."

"Ah well, I'll have to leave you without the light to do so." Bruce started to move around up at the top of the cliff and stuck his face out over the side in the light.

"Alfred I can still fire you."

"Yes Master Bruce but you won't, sir." He seemed to add the sir as an afterthought. Bruce situated himself to climb back down and yelled down to Alfred,

"One day I'll pay someone to invent something that skips all this climbing business."

"Well, good luck with that sir. I'm sure you'll waste a spectacular amount of money." Bruce rolled his eyes and gave a slight sigh. Then he started to climb back down.

All his muscles he was telling to be machines moments ago were even more tired after the short break. He had never felt anything like that before. He realized his life probably wasn't that hard or challenging in all reality. It still was difficult but before all of thus he was blessed, he was glad he had his parents for as long as he did. He just wished he knew who had taken them away. But he pushed those thoughts aside and continued his descent his muscles weren't as tired now.


End file.
